Potterlock-The Case
by Lumm8890
Summary: This is about Sherlock and John getting a special case from the Hogwarts gang. Also includes Sherlock memories, not entirely based on Sherlock or Harry Potter, there are changes. Thanks!
1. The Case

John Watson was sitting at the table eating his biscuit when he heard Mrs. Hudson clopping in.

"John! A letter just came for you. Strange, an owl delivered it." She said, sitting the wax sealed envelope down on table. John set the biscuit down on the plate. He laughed. Oh, Mrs. Hudson, what owl would drop a letter? Her medication must be causing those hallucinations again.

"Ok. Thanks." Must be for Sherlock. He looked at the large green print on the back. It read:

Mr. S. Holmes and Mr. J. Watson

221B Baker Street

London, England

He started to peel back the paper when a loud voice filled his ears.

"No! Mycroft I swear!" Ah. Sherlock is home.

"Sorry, little brother but I am afraid your childish imagination got the best of you."

"I was five!" Sherlock's anger was quite amusing.

"Good day, Sherlock. Goodbye, John." Mycroft had closed the door before John could say goodbye. Sherlock stormed in, his brilliant blue eyes burning.

"Oh, and HE was the smart one. Goldfish…" He muttered. He picked up the letter flipping it over. "What's this?" He asked throwing it down.

"Well, if you would stop banging around I would know." He snatched in off the table and finished opening it. Sherlock had the paper out before John could say 'stop'. It read:

Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson,

My name is Harry Potter, and my friends and I would very much like to meet with you. We have a case that we think you would find most interesting. Only, we have one problem. You must meet us. If you accept, come to Kings Cross Station, platform 9 at 2:30 tomorrow afternoon. Be there within 10 minutes.

Sincerely,

Mr. H. Potter,Ms. H. Granger, and Mr. R. Weasly

John finished reading over his shoulder.

"So. You want to take it?" John asked.

Sherlock remained silent, unmoving as if he wasn't done reading. He finally moved, his head jerking up. He snatched the envelope and turned it a few times. He checked his watch,

"Good, good. It's only 2:00. John, get your coat. The game is on!" Sherlock buttoned his coat and ran out the door.

"Sherlock, the letter said tomorrow." John said, he and Sherlock were bustling through the station.

"John. Who would know when a letter was going to be delivered, especially when a bloody owl was delivering it. Obviously, they will be here every day from 2:20-2:40 until the letter has surely come and we have declined. So, where is platform 9?" John pointed towards a brick wall with a 9 on the side. They rushed over to see a group of three teenagers.

"Mr. Holmes?" One of them asked. Sherlock nodded. "Ah. Harry Potter." Sherlock stared at the lightning bolt shaped scar on his head. Harry continued. "This is Ron Weasly," he pointed to a red head in the corner, who looked up and made a slight hand gesture. "And Hermione Granger." He nodded towards a girl who smiled.

"Hello, Mr. Holmes. Pleasure to meet you." She shook his hand and stepped back.

"Right, right. So. I assume you three have a good reason for bringing me here." Sherlock said, looking at them all.

"Yes." Harry looked around. "Mr. Holmes, we're about to do something that you might not believe. But please, give us an open mind." Sherlock nodded. Harry pointed to Hermione, who ran straight at the wall. John rushed forward, his doctor reflexes kicking in. When someone ran at a brick wall, they usually needed assistance. But not Hermione. She passed through, and with a blink of an eye, she was gone. Sherlock blinked twice.

"Ok, Mr. Potter. She passes through walls. Is that your case?" Sherlock asked, his eyes narrowing. Harry laughed.

"No, Mr. Holmes, no. But I am about to ask something that may surprise you." He was biting his lip. Still nervous.

"Ask away."

"Try it. Try to run through that wall." Harry looked at the wall, then Sherlock. Then John. "You, too, Mr. Watson. We think you're like us. Try, please." He was begging, now. But, what Sherlock said surprised everyone.

"Of course Mr. Potter." He smiled slyly. Then he ran.

John blinked again. Sherlock was gone. Harry and Ron both smiled.

"No, no, no. No. No. No. He could NOT do that yesterday!" John shook his head.

"I know, Mr. Watson. But it's your turn." Had pushed him forward a bit. If Sherlock could do it, so can I. Then John ran too. And he went through.

Harry and Ron followed, they stood on what seemed to be another platform. A huge shining red train stood in front of them. Sherlock stared at it. Memories flooded back.

Hey! This is my first story, and the next carter will be Sherlock's memories. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Hi! Everything in this chapter is Sherlock's memories.

Sherlock was in his living room, still tired from his eleventh birthday last night. He had sat up reading (and solving) murder mysteries, with his brother, who solved them much quicker. They were up until 4 in the morning, and Sherlock was exhausted. He stared at his mother. She had too much to drink last night, that was for sure. And, of course she was stressed from his father's family visiting. They really did not approve of her convincing Mr. Holmes to move so far from his family.

"Sherlock, stop staring at me and eat your breakfast." She got up and went to drink her tea in private.

"What did you figure out, Sherlock? Hmm?" Mycroft teased him. Sherlock already knew he was stupid, Mycroft didn't have to rub it in. He went back to his breakfast without answering.

"Sherlock! A letter!" His mother called from the front hall. Sherlock, happy to leave his smirking older brother, left to fetch it.

He quickly tore it open, breaking the carefully placed wax seal.

"Mom! It's here! My letter!"Sherlock was exultant, he was a wizard, just like his brother. So there.

"Wonderful, dear. You can join us in our shopping today then. And so he did, happy to pick his wand out at Ollivander's, and enjoy a lunch at The Leaky Cauldron with his family. People watching was always a joy, even though Mycroft always ruined it with his snarky comments about the amount of friends Sherlock had. That number was exactly zero.

Finally. The day had come, and Sherlock Holmes was standing in front of the well proportioned steam engine. All the other kids exclaimed how huge and monstrous it was. But it wasn't really, right? It was average sized for its type, and the wheels weren't really that large. It was just how it was. Maybe kids could be stupider then Sherlock. What a strange realization. He boarded, sitting in the only empty compartment. Other kids passed, one by one looking at him, him telling them what he knew about them already, no need for useless information to be told to him. They all looked shocked. What's so shocking? It's all about you, you should know. Then they all would walk away, squeezing themselves into an already cramped seat. Sherlock was used to this, he knew what kids could be like when he did that. He knew he was stupid, and Mycroft said they were all shocked to see how slow and stupid he was. No one wanted to sit with an idiot. He stared out the windows. He missed his dog, Redbeard. He missed home.

Sorry for the short chapter, but I'm busy. Look forward to the next one, which will be back to the present. Thanks for reading!


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